


A Lost Memory of Another Life

by FireEye



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-17 19:26:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20174572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireEye/pseuds/FireEye
Summary: She's almost certain that Asra is seeing someone.





	A Lost Memory of Another Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [piningmod](https://archiveofourown.org/users/piningmod/gifts).

She awoke out of an empty sleep.

Beside her, Asra slept on peacefully. There was only one bed in the shop, so they shared. People mistook it for more all the time, but that’s all it was. The bed was big enough for the two of them, and he wasn’t about to make her sleep on the floor.

Asra wasn’t like that.

She swung her legs out over the edge of the bed, and rolled to sit up. Asra stirred, but didn’t waken. The floorboards were chill under her bare feet, and she crept to the stairs by touch before summoning a spark of light.

It wasn’t just the bed.

They shared everything. Everything worth sharing.

And yet...

There was an emptiness between them.

There was a small mirror hidden amid the curios of the bookshelf, wrapped in velvet and etched in runes along its frame. She brought it to the back room, and placed it flat upon the table. She gazed upon it wistfully, as though if she did so long enough she could recognize the woman that stared back at her.

As if her reflection would speak, and reveal all of the secrets she sought to remember.

***

Some evenings, when Asra had only been gone in the afternoon and not overnight, he returned smelling like myrrh. One of the Houses in the Temple district used that flavor of incense, but she never saw him there.

In spite of the way people mistook them, she wondered if he hadn’t taken up with a young priest. She tried to imagine the type of person who could catch Asra’s eye.

Such a wide variety of faces and forms flashed through her imagination, yet never did one look like the woman she saw in the mirror.

She mused over it as she swept up the shop. It was late afternoon, and the aura of myrrh incense was strong, albeit mingled with other ingredients. Asra had come home early, and was musing over a tome, with several reagents scattered across the counter. It would have left her free to join him had she done the sweeping with magic, bidding the broom to sweep all on its own, but she liked the way it felt in her hands.

Sturdy and real.

Sometimes magic felt _too_ surreal.

Her sweeping took her near to the counter. She closed her eyes, then opened them again.

“Master?”

Asra hummed in reply. He looked up, chin propped against his palm, the ghost of a smile on his lips.

She tried not to frown. Tried not to _feel_. There was nothing, apart from the grain of the wood beneath her fingertips.

“If... you want me to go, I-...”

He was standing in front of her before she could blink; his expression knit in confusion. His hands settled on her shoulders as he sought her gaze.

“What are you trying to say?” he prodded her quietly. “Why would I want you to go?”

She swallowed, and made a tiny sweep with the broom.

“I don’t want to be in the way of your happiness.”

Asra shook his head. His faint smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You never will be,” he assured her. “You _couldn’t_ be.”

She didn’t know what he was saying, and looked down. Asra bit his lip. He jostled her shoulders gently, prompting her to raised her head and meet his gaze.

The depths of his eyes were pained.

“Don’t you understand...?” 

She wanted to ask most, _Don’t you?_

Instead, she bit her tongue

“No,” Asra answered his own question, but not hers unspoken. “Of course not, I’m sorry.”

Her hand tightened on the broom, and she turned back to sweeping. Asra watched her several moments longer, even without looking she could feel the weight of his gaze upon her. Then the curtain to the back room rustled. The back door creaked its almost silent creak, and he left her alone in to mind the shop.

He returned later, all drawn smiles and freshly baked muffins.

***

She followed him.

Maybe she shouldn’t have. He was entitled to his privacy, and she was but his apprentice. Taken in, out of the goodness of his heart. Asra had a lot of goodness in his heart; the absolute last thing she wanted to do was betray his trust in her.

He didn’t go to the Temple district.

She was so caught up in following him, wherever he would go, that she lost track of where she was.

A shadow passed over her, and she found herself in the middle of the forest.

Her heart was torn.

Standing beneath the whispering trees, she breathed in the cool air that permeated the forest. She shouldn’t have been here. She should have been minding the shop, as he trusted her to do.

Before she could turn to try and find the trail home, a voice drifted from beyond the underbrush ahead. Asra’s voice, and though she couldn’t quite make out the words, she heard a deeper answer in a voice that she didn’t know. But it felt, for all the world, as though she knew it once, in a dream.

“It’s too dangerous.”

They were sitting together amidst the roots of a tree, shoulder to shoulder. Comfortable, in a way that made her heart ache.

“I miss you,” Asra said.

“_She_ doesn’t.”

“She _would_, if you let her.”

“What good would that do?”

Asra sighed, lowering his head. She’d never seen him look so defeated.

“It’s not the same,” the stranger said. “You, me... this.” He made a symbol with his hand, lightly across the back of his hand. “And she’s not... not who she used to be.”

“Not yet,” Asra agreed. “But she’s growing stronger, day by day.”

An alarm jingled in her head. With a sudden realization, it dawned that she wasn’t supposed to be hearing this. They were talking about _her_.

She tried to calm her breathing, as Asra had taught her, to no avail. Nausea welled up within her, and pain pooled behind her eyes. Falling backward, she stumbled. A twig snapped under her heel, and echoed in her ears.

Asra and the man both looked up.

***

She awoke out of an empty sleep.

Asra was gone. 

At first, she thought he must have gone on a journey.

But Asra wasn’t like that.

He could never tell her when he’d be back or where he was going, but he always told her _when_ he was going. And the last she remembered was...

...was...

...a walk in the forest. Asra had been home when she’d gotten back. She must have been tired; the memory was hazy. Perhaps she had gone to bed early, and he was still downstairs, keeping himself busy.

She stretched out, throwing her arms above her head... and sighed.

The bed felt too big without him.

If he was busy, her thoughts meandered idly, maybe she could help with whatever he was doing. Sliding her feet over the edge of the bed, she padded towards the stairs. She slowed on the steps near the bottom, as voices drifted up from the back room.

Asra’s lilt, and another’s thrum.

Her heart fluttered. She didn’t want to _pry_, exactly, but... curiosity got the better of her. Closing her eyes, she took a small breath. If she magicked herself, Asra would feel it, so...

...she crept to the closed curtain, as quietly as she could. Slipping a finger through the gap, she pulled it back just far enough to see Asra. If she leaned, just a little, she could see his guest – tall, even seated, and clad in a dark cloak. His hair hid his eyes as he shook his head solemnly.

She stood quietly, listening to them talk in hushed tones.

They were speaking of the forest. Of a danger that was dead, but whispers of it remained. Of things she didn’t understand; but that filled her heart with dread and blotted out the stars.

Faust appeared out of Asra’s sleeve, and tasted the air; a moment later, he lifted his head in surprise. The larger stranger’s gaze also fell her way. Startled, she made to retreat, but Asra called after her.

A calm washed over her.

Asra’s doing.

He caught up to her before she could flee, reaching for her arm. She hadn’t been _trying_ to pry...

“You weren’t in bed...” She paused; that had confused enough people already. She quickly moved on, “I heard voices...”

“It’s okay,” Asra assured her.

He turned towards the back to introduce her.

“This is Muriel. We’re... he’s...” Asra licked his lower lip; Muriel’s ears turned a bright crimson as he explained it away with a shrug. “He’s a very old friend.”

She peered at him around Asra’s elbow. He glowered back. More than that, he seemed familiar... But if he was Asra’s friend, why couldn’t she remember him? Where had he been hiding? And why would he seem familiar?

“We could use some tea...” Asra seemed to struggle for a moment with the words, uncharacteristically so, before inviting her. “You should join us.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks. “Would that be alright, if I did?”

Muriel fidgeted. Smiling, however, Asra slid his arms around her for an affectionate squeeze.

“Of course. You’re always welcome.”

A faint smile crept into her eyes, and she meandered upstairs. When she returned to the back room with piping hot tea, too warm to drink, Asra stood to help her set it down on the table. He sat her in the empty chair between them, for all that Muriel eyed her sidelong.

Asra immediately launched into tales of lighter things – the colors of the forest, the hearsay about the town. Faust’s adventure in the rafters of the tavern down the street from the marketplace. She propped her hands under her chin, elbows on the table to listen. Once, she happened to glance and caught Muriel staring at her.

She smiled at him.

Muriel didn’t quite smile back. His gaze flitted away, and then back to her. He sighed gruffly, and some of the tension eased out of his posture.

When she looked back to Asra, he was beaming. The warmth in his smile made her warm inside, too.

This must have been, she thought, what it meant to belong.

**Author's Note:**

> ...and then she forgot again at some point, naturally. Poor girl! You have to wonder how many times this kind of thing happened...
> 
> Sorry, I really do have too much fun with magic-induced memory stuff. ;)
> 
> [My recipient seems to have disappeared, so I gift this story to Pining '19. May we all pine together!]


End file.
